


crossing paths

by scriveyner (trismegistus)



Series: Voltron Fic Collection [16]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Urban Fantasy, M/M, past relationship, werewolves and vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-31
Updated: 2017-10-31
Packaged: 2019-01-27 01:27:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12570624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trismegistus/pseuds/scriveyner
Summary: “Now, I gotta warn you,” Lance said, fumbling his key in the lock for the second time in as many tries. “I've got a roommate. But we probably won't see him, he doesn't like to emerge until the sun's down.” Shiro's hand was warm on the small of Lance's back, a firm presence through the thin fabric of his shirt and Lance grinned saucily as he finally managed to get the apartment door open.“What, is he a vampire or something?”





	crossing paths

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Halloween!

“Now, I gotta warn you,” Lance said, fumbling his key in the lock for the second time in as many tries. “I've got a roommate. But we probably won't see him, he doesn't like to emerge until the sun's down.” Shiro's hand was warm on the small of Lance's back, a firm presence through the thin fabric of his shirt and Lance grinned saucily as he finally managed to get the apartment door open.

“What, is he a vampire or something?” Shiro rumbled in amusement, his breath ghosting against the back of Lance's neck. Lance shuddered and resisted the urge to lean back into Shiro right there in the breezeway for the apartment. They weren't in the best part of town and besides, there was a perfectly serviceable bed just begging for action not far away.

“Something like that,” Lance said teasingly, and led the way in. The main room of the apartment was a cluttered mess; blankets thrown haphazard over a couch that had clearly seen better days, empty cases piled in front of the television amid pizza boxes and take-out containers. There were books piled on the table between several small potted plants, and a few strands of half-lit fairy lights taped to the walls. “Ah,” Lance said, realizing as if for the first time what manner of filth he lived in. “I wasn't expecting to bring anyone home tonight.”

“I don't care about the location,” Shiro said, closing the door behind him and putting his right hand firmly on Lance's hip. That hand was cooler than his left, a prosthetic of some kind although Lance hadn't even realized until Shiro touched him earlier in the evening. “Company's the only thing that's got my attention.” Shiro turned Lance with the pressure of his hand and Lance threw his arms over Shiro's shoulders, kissing back fiercely, the desperation that had kindled in his lungs at the bar fanned fresh by the taste of Shiro's lips. “Bedroom?” Shiro murmured when they broke apart, and Lance wet his lips and considered, inclining his head toward the hallway.

“Unless you want to get down and dirty on the couch,” he said, leaning in close and smirking.

“You're the one with the roommate,” Shiro said between kisses, and Lance found himself grinding against Shiro's thigh, which he had pushed between Lance's legs.

“Yeah,” a new voice said, irritated, from the direction of the couch. “He _is_.” Shiro abruptly stopped kissing Lance, eyes open in surprise and Lance sighed loudly, leaning back in Shiro's arm's to glare at the pile of blankets that was starting to reveal itself as hiding a person.

“Shiro,” Lance said, his voice tight with fake hospitality. “That's my roommate, Keith. Keith, Shiro.”

The blankets shifted more and a dark head emerged at the end of the couch closest to the door. Keith glared at the two interlopers, and Lance lifted one foot from the ground, winking at Keith, still in Shiro's arms.

Shiro's voice was strangled, when he spoke. “ _Keith?_ ”

Keith gave them both a long, lingering look before he snorted and burrowed back down under his blankets. “Lance's bedroom is down the hall,” he said before he disappeared.

Lance looked back to Shiro, surprised. “You know Keith? He doesn't know anybody.”

“Yeah … kinda.” Shiro actually looked a little shaken, so Lance leaned forward and kissed him on the tip of his nose.

“Bedroom's the last one down the hall, I'll be right there, babe.” He saw Shiro down the hall, and then wheeled back and put both his hands on the back of the couch, leaning over it and glaring at the pile of blankets. When that facilitated no response he poked it. “Oi,” Lance said, as Keith growled without venom from underneath his nest. “Is this gonna be a problem?”

“No.” Keith's voice was muffled and he didn't deign to emerge for Lance's benefit. “I knew him before. Before-before. Few year ago, he doesn't know.”

“You sure?” Lance said. “I like this guy, I wanna keep him. That means paws _off_.”

“I know what it means, Lance.” Keith's voice was weird, but Lance wasn't going to push it right now. He was hard and had a very large and hopefully still enthusiastic potential shag waiting for him in his bedroom. Lance gave one final look at the bundle of blankets, then flounced off down the hall toward his bedroom, where the door stood open and Shiro stood just inside, his arms crossed and chin down. Lance didn't let his face fall, although his heart plummeted. Man, he was gonna get _laid_ , too….

Lance closed the door securely behind him and looked at Shiro. “This is still okay, right?” he said, tentatively. “I mean what, Keith's an old boyfriend or something?”

“Or something,” Shiro said, but he wasn't looking at Lance; staring instead at a fixed point in the distance that only he could see. Lance verbalized his groan this time, and put his hand on Shiro's arm. God, Shiro looked good even in just a plain dress shirt and slacks, and Lance was trying very hard not to skip ahead to the point where he pulled said clothing off Shiro with his teeth.

“You still want to do this?” Lance asked, as both his brain and his boner sang a song of _what the fuck are you doing you idiot._ ”I didn't know you knew Keith, if it's weird….”

That seemed to snap Shiro out of his daze. He looked at Lance and smiled again, and it was the same smile he'd had over dinner, soft and charming and _augh_ Lance was so hard he was going to ruin his good underwear. God dammit if Keith cockblocked him by his existence _alone…_. But Shiro uncrossed his arms and took Lance's face in both hands, kissing him deeply and Lance almost vibrated out of his clothes right then and there. “No,” Shiro said, and licked into Lance's mouth. “It's not a problem for me at all.”

 

#

 

Getting fucked was quite possibly Lance's most favorite pastime of them all, and it was honestly a shame he didn't indulge in it quite as frequently as he used to. Shiro was a fantastic lay, slow and intimate on the lead-up, full of passionate kisses and absolutely inspired with his mouth. And then, _then;_ Lance was pretty sure he woke Keith if not the neighbors, but fuck the neighbors, seriously, because there were two bullet holes in the dormer under the window and if Lance was gonna put up with their drug-dealing asses then they were going to put up with him get gloriously and savagely fucked on a Friday night.

By all rights he shouldn't be able to walk straight after being plowed like that but Lance was still simmering in the afterglow when he slipped out of the bed, wrapped only in a fringed blanket that had been kicked to the floor during their vigorous activities. The kitchen light was on and Keith was leaning with his back against the counter, a straw stuck in an opaque bag and holding a phone far too close to his face. He didn't look up when Lance entered the kitchen.

“Stock's expired again,” Keith muttered around the straw, his voice still with that strange, hollow quality.

“Is _that_ why you're so grumpy?” Lance asked, pulling the carton of orange juice out of the door and shaking it, before taking a pull straight from the carton. “I'll talk to Hunk tomorrow, see if we can get a fresher batch.” Lance shifted on his heels and sighed in satisfaction. Getting up and walking to the kitchen had shifted the load and now he felt Shiro's come start to drip down his legs. Keith did glance up then, mostly in disgust.

“Are you _dripping_ on the _floor,_ ” he said, scandalized, and Lance shrugged with one shoulder, taking another swig of the orange juice.

“This isn't gonna be a problem, right?” Lance asked, because Keith never liked telling him the truth on the first pass.

“You mean you leaking fluids all over the floor, or you fucking my best friend?” Keith snapped, and then shut his mouth quickly, eyes flying back to his phone as if he had said something he shouldn't have.

“Shiro's your _best friend?_ ” Lance said. “Dude, number one I thought _I_ was your best friend, and number two, you've been dead for like, how many years?”

“I'm not dead,” Keith muttered, typing something into his phone.

“Hello, Mr. Vampire. Undead-is-my-thing.” Lance waved his free hand at Keith and then caught the edge of the blanket he was wearing like a shawl and pulled it back over his shoulders before it could fall to the floor.

“It was a long time ago, Lance, it'll be fine.” Keith had folded in on himself. “Just, get him out of here fast, okay?” Keith squeezed the package in his free hand tightly, and then threw it in the bin and stalked past Lance, headed toward his own room. Lance could see the door shut from the kitchen, the metal sign declaring the room 'the Batcave' clattering slightly with the force of the gesture. Lance sighed and looked at the container of orange juice in his hand, and then shrugged and finished it off, tossing the container in the bin atop the empty blood bag and heading back to his own room.

 

#

 

Lance woke to an empty bed. He was only a little disappointed, stretching his legs out as far as he could and feeling the tingle that started in his toes. The itch had started in under his skin, the night had been the last before the full moon. Even if he didn't have the calendar marked every month he got _extremely_ horny right before and after the full moon, and Keith could very well recite exactly how many times he'd had to put up with Lance when he was Like That. If anything, Keith should be grateful he'd gone out and found himself a boyfriend. Even if it appeared to be Keith's old one.

 _Gah,_ he wasn't going to worry about that right now. Lance crawled out from under the covers and stretched his body out luxuriously slow. When he looked around his room he could see the grey light of morning under the curtains, and Shiro's shirt was still flung over the back of his desk chair although his trousers were missing off the floor. Two phones sat side by side on chargers on Lance's desk, and when he went to check his he saw two missed messages from Hunk. As Lance tapped out a reply he realized that he could smell … something like bacon, in the air. Oh, _meat._ Precious, precious _meat._

Figuring that Shiro wouldn't be as inured to him parading around naked as Keith was, Lance somehow found a pair of clean boxers and a tee shirt. Freshly clad he wandered down the hall toward the kitchen, only to find Keith lurking in the hallway shadows, eyes fixed on Shiro and _glowing._

“Oh, no,” Lance said, and grabbed Keith by the back of his hoodie.

Keith was  _very_ strong. Fortunately for Lance, he was plenty strong himself and had the advantage of Keith being fixated on prey. He was able to haul Keith far enough back that when Shiro turned around he didn't see the red glow of vampire eyes in the dark hallway. “Good morning,” Shiro said cheerfully, standing shirtless and barefoot in Lance's kitchen. “I hope you don't mind, I'm making breakfast.”

“Smells delicious,” Lance said, not allowing himself to linger on the shirtless part of the equation. He could _feel_ Keith vibrate at the words. “I'm gonna take a quick shower first, okay?”

Shiro gave him a thumbs up and turned his attention back toward what he was doing, oblivious to Lance bodily hauling Keith into the dank dungeon that he called a room. There were blackout curtains over the sole window, and dim light eking from several covered lamps. Lance never looked too closely and frankly tried to avoid Keith's room like the plague. “ _Dude_ ,” Lance hissed as Keith stumbled in ahead of him. “My boyfriend is not your _dinner._ ”

Keith dragged his hand down his face and panted hard. His eyes had gone red and his fangs were already extended, if Lance had been a few minutes later he would have stumbled on Keith feeding instead. “I'm a monster,” Keith wheezed, his voice rough like he'd gargled gravel, and Lance rolled his eyes, glancing back down the hallway before closing Keith's door behind him.

“Yeah, and so am I,” he said. “Old news by now, Keith. I thought you said you had this under control.”

“I thought I did,” Keith sat on the edge of his bed, arms trembling. “It's been so long since I've been just around another _person_ , he smells so _good_ , Lance….”

Lance let out a sigh, sitting down on the bed beside Keith. Then he leaned back on one hand and tilted his head, exposing his throat. Keith looked over at him, and then looked away quickly. “You just need fresh blood, right?” Lance said. “The expired shit makes you sick, I get it. Go ahead, I'm a big boy.”

Keith chewed his bottom lip for a second, but didn't have it in him to resist for much longer than that. Lance exhaled as Keith's breath brushed the junction of neck and shoulder, and then when his teeth broke through the skin Lance couldn't help the moan. He covered his mouth with his free hand as Keith drank from him.

This wasn't the first time that he'd helped Keith out like this, but Keith didn't like to feel beholden to Lance in any way. Lance shuddered as Keith's hand dragged down the front of his shirt and covered the growing bulge in his boxers firmly. “Keith,” Lance gasped, as Keith squeezed him.

Keith laved his tongue over the wound his teeth had created on Lance's neck, sealing the holes and smearing the blood that had escaped. “God,” Keith's voice sounded more normal than it had in days. “You taste so good, Lance.”

Lance flopped back on the bed, one hand clutching at his tee shirt and breathing hard. “Fucking, dizzy,” he said. “How much did you _take_ , I don't wanna be a vampire, I like food too much….”

“I barely took anything, you gigantic wuss.” Lance's blood was smeared all over Keith's mouth, and he made no effort to wipe it away. He did lick his lips, looking down at Lance like Lance was a freshly laid out dinner, and Lance groaned again when Keith tugged down his boxers.

“Prick,” Lance said affectionately, as Keith ran his tongue up and down Lance's cock. “Keep your teeth to yourself this time, I don't want any extra holes down there.”

 

#

 

Lance was still in the bathroom washing up when the smoke detector went off. The shrill chirp caught him completely off guard and nearly deafened his sensitive ears, and he pinwheeled back and almost fell into the tub. Fortunately, his sense of balance was slightly better than that and he caught himself, one hand clamped over his ear and the other yanking the door open. “What the _hell_ -” he barked, and was met with a wall of thick white smoke.

“Sorry!” Shiro's voice came from the kitchen.

 

#

 

“This was bacon, once,” Lance said mournfully to the charred black remnants of food that had been scraped into the rubbish bin. Eggs, black and burnt, swiftly joined their former brethren in the bin, and Shiro stood at the sink and scrubbed Lance's only skillet with a scouring pad. “This _always_ happens,” Shiro said dejectedly, as Lance moved to fanning smoke back out the open window. “This is why my roommate doesn't let me cook. I thought our stove had funky burners or something.”

Lance rolled his eyes as he fanned. “Shiro, don't take this the wrong way but you're way too hot to worry about cooking, all right?” Shiro looked up in surprise at that, and when he blushed it was fucking _adorable_ , thank you very much. Then a different expression crossed his face as he looked at Lance, and Lance cocked his head, unable to figure it out. “What? What is it?”

Shiro tapped the side of his neck, and Lance's hand went there, to where Keith's bite had bruised yellow and dark, and Lance realized that he'd forgotten about it just that quickly. Vampire juju, he _told_ Keith he didn't like it when he used that on him. “Did I do that?” Shiro asked, concerned, and Lance exhaled a little in relief.

“It's all right,” he said airily. “I'm a fast healer.”

Shiro turned off the tap and crossed over to Lance anyway, putting his hand gently over the wound and rubbing his thumb over it. The actual bite marks had already healed over, leaving only the bruising behind, and Lance didn't wince at the pressure. “I don't remember hurting you,” he said, and Lance put his hands on Shiro's hips.

“Shiro, babe, I _like_ it rough,” he said. “Remember? You had me climbing the walls. It's all right, I know what I'm in for.” He moved in close, pressing their bodies together, and was definitely gratified to see Shiro's face go pink again just that easily. “You can mark me up as much as you like,” Lance murmured. An unfamiliar ringtone cut the tension in the kitchen like a knife, and Lance's hope of getting in one last morning fuck evaporated like the last of his bacon.

“Oh, that's my phone,” Shiro said, distracted, and Lance watched him hurry out of the kitchen back into Lance's bedroom. Lance sighed and looked around, smoke still hanging in the air but not nearly as thick as it had been. Keith stuck his head out of his room, the hood up over his head, trying to shadow his face from the morning sun leaking in the open window.

“Sorry,” Lance said, and glanced at the window. “Once the smoke's cleared out I'll close it.”

“I took the battery out of the smoke detector,” Keith said, and winged the nine-volt at Lance. He glowered at Lance a second more, and then disappeared back into the darkness that was his room.

Lance saw Shiro off at the door, his dress shirt rumpled and clearly on its second day of wear. Damn, Shiro even made a walk of shame look attractive. “Sorry this was such a clusterfuck,” Lance said, and Shiro cupped his jaw and kissed him deeply.

“I had fun,” Shiro said. “See you later?”

“Oh, definitely,” Lance said, and kissed him again.

Once the door was closed and locked, Lance leaned against it, hand over his heart and feeling how it beat like a snare drum. He could smell Shiro's arousal, he clearly hadn't wanted to leave yet and that was sending little tremors down his spine. Shiro was only a _little_ thrown by Keith's presence, he was still into Lance. Hot _damn,_ Lance needed a normal relationship for once.

Speak of, Lance didn't bother knocking on Keith's door, just cracking it slightly. “You're not a bat, right?” he said, squinting into the murky depths.

“Lance, get bent.”

“Dude, I got laid by the most fantastic piece of ass, nothing you can say is gonna harsh that today.” Keith rolled over, the movement drawing Lance's attention as his eyes quickly grew accustomed to the ridiculously low levels of light that Keith kept his room at. “I just wanted to say that I've decided I want him in my pack so do _not_ screw this up for me. I know what you're allergic to, you do _not_ want me as an enemy.”

“Yeah, I'm allergic to your goddamn magic blood,” Keith said. “You gave me indigestion.” He rolled over and pulled his blankets up over his head, giving Lance the finger. Lance shook his head and closed the door.

“We gotta get that boy a coffin,” he said, and headed for his room.

 

#

 

Lance often said that Keith slept like the dead, which wasn't _entirely_ accurate. Keith wasn't even sure it was _sleep_ in the most traditional sense. It was dreamless at least, freed from the nightmares that had plagued him for years; and when he woke refreshed every evening it was with a quick snap of _awake_ without any drowsiness.

However, when Lance was being an ass and woke him before the sun had set, it was like dealing with the world through a thick layer of molasses, and he was lucky if the grogginess went away at all. Unlike traditional myths that vampires burst into flames at the sight of the sun, it was more like a giant migraine machine for Keith. He could deal with it _if_ he had to, but he'd really really _really_ rather not.

So when the insistent knocking didn't go away in the early evening when the sun still sat bright and heavy above the horizon, Keith finally rolled out of bed, pulled his hood up over his head, put his sunglasses on and cracked open the front door with murder in his veins. “ _What._ ”

Honestly, he'd expected the neighbors; they'd tried twice to self-evict the college kids from the top unit and had for the most part stopped after the ringleader spent three weeks in the ICU and six months in the care of the state, but Lance had been screaming the walls down last night so he wouldn't blame them if they tried again. It was not, however, the neighbors – it was Shiro, dressed in clean clothes, with several plastic grocery bags in hand. Keith gave Shiro a long, scrolling look, and Shiro's smile went from genuine to strained. “What?” Keith asked again, because Shiro hadn't actually answered the first inquiry.

“Is Lance in?” Shiro asked. “I brought some replacement groceries. And a new skillet.” He indicated the bags. “Matt gave me instructions on how not to fuck up dinner so I thought I'd make an apology dinner for you both.”

Keith was In no mood for Daylight People And Their Nonsense, even if said Daylight Person was his (former) best friend. “Lance isn't here,” Keith said, and started to close the door.

“Keith,” Shiro said plaintively, and hearing his name in Shiro's voice like that made something that had been long hardened in Keith's gut shake free. “C'mon, man … it's me. Why are you acting like this.”

“Lance isn't here,” Keith repeated flatly. “He probably won't be back tonight.” That wasn't entirely a lie, but wasn't quite the truth, either. When Shiro's face twisted at that, Keith leaned his head against the side of the door. Even with the sunglasses on, the reflected light of day was making his eyes water. “What, did Lance not tell you about his ~condition~?”

He watched Shiro's brow furrow. “You mean that he's a werewolf?”

The only reason Keith's mouth didn't fall open was because he'd propped his cheek against the door. “He told you that?”

“Yeah,” Shiro said, and then he smiled. “Isn't he a goof? I love his sense of humor.” He held out the bags. “At least let me cook for you guys, you can freeze it and he can eat it later when he's in.”

Keith let out a long groan. “What is the right combination of words to make you go _away_ , Shiro?”

“There isn't one,” Shiro said, and his friendly smile turned sharp, at the edges. “You should remember that at least.”

 

#

 

Keith kept his hood up, but with the curtains drawn in the kitchen and the overhead light on instead it wasn't _too_ bad. The headache pounded behind his eyes, though, and that was compounded by the fact that he could _smell_ the blood in Shiro's veins, god dammit. He'd had fresh blood just this morning – yeah, okay, _werewolf_ blood but it was still fresh – but it didn't compare to pure, untapped human blood. The hunger roiled in his gut but this, at least, Keith had some practice with. He sat with his chin in his hand at the small table pushed against the wall as he watched Shiro cook.

Or at least, attempt to.

“Are you _sure_ Lance won't be in tonight?” Shiro said, depositing the much-burnt skillet in the now-overflowing rubbish bin. “It seems a shame to just cook for you and me – he didn't answer when I called him, though.”

“He's probably at work,” Keith said, and stifled a yawn.

“Where does he work? He never answered me when I asked him about it.” Shiro glanced over his shoulder at Keith, and Keith shrugged. Shiro turned around and leaned against the counter, folding his arms. “How do _you_ not know, are you roommates?”

“He does shit while I sleep, I do shit while he sleeps.” This time the yawn escaped but Keith made certain to cover his mouth. Didn't want Shiro to get a good look at the extra teeth he'd developed since the last time Shiro saw him. “We don't actually talk that much.”

Lies were casual and easy, though when Shiro looked him over Keith made certain not to meet his eye, touching his phone with one finger to check for messages. “Keith,” Shiro said, and sighed deeply. “What _happened?_ ”

“Too much,” Keith said simply.

“You just – you up and just _left_ in the middle of the night without telling anyone. I thought you were _dead._ ” Shiro's voice went strained and Keith winced. “No one could find a trace of you anywhere.”

“Yeah,” Keith said softly. “That was kinda the point, Shiro.” He put both his hands on the table. “A lot happened, all right? I don't want to talk about it.”

“What about us?” Shiro said, and Keith froze.

“There's nothing to talk about there, either,” Keith said carefully, in the same tone of voice. “You and Lance are a thing now.”

The silence hung heavy between them for a moment, an ocean whose shores were the past and the present. Then they were both, fortunately, interrupted by Shiro's cell going off. He pulled it from his pocket and glanced at the screen, and the way his expression broke from the serious, worried face to a soft smile made Keith's heart ache in ways he'd forgotten it could. “Hey, Lance,” Shiro said as he answered it, and half-turned away from Keith. “I'm at your place, actually, thought I'd make you guys dinner to make up for the fiasco this morning.” Silence. “Keith's right here, he's supervising.” A hitch in Shiro's voice, then a small laugh. “I won't burn the place down, it's just dinner. Matt gave me – okay, okay, o- do you you want to talk to Keith? I'm making steak.” Keith could hear Lance's response through the phone from across the room, and Shiro held his cell away from his ear for a second. “Okay, see you soon then!”

“I think he's excited,” Keith said wryly, chin in hand as Shiro smiled absently at his phone.

“Boy sure does like his meat,” Shiro said, and started going through one of the plastic bags on the counter. “Oh, I didn't ask how he likes it cooked,” he said, glancing back at Keith. “Do you-”

“Rare,” Keith said, and sighed.

 

#

 

Since he couldn't go back to bed while Shiro was fussing around the kitchen, Keith 'supervised' as Shiro had said. Mostly he sat at the table with his hood up and played on his phone instead, he half-watched Shiro as he muttered to himself and went from item to item. Fortunately for them both a good chunk of the meal that Shiro was intent on making was more or less pre-made, which didn't entirely lessen the danger but it meant that there was less distraction overall.

Keith wondered idly how he was going to get out of this meal, because nothing about it spelled anything but trouble for him. If Shiro wanted to believe that Lance was joking when he said that he was a werewolf that was great but he absolutely did not want to open the can of worms that was Shiro knowing he was a vampire.

Way more questions there than he wanted to answer, or even think about.

“Ow! Damn it.”

Keith looked up, not because of Shiro's words, but because the crisp, metallic scent of blood and broken over his nose like wave. Shiro had dropped the knife to the cutting board and held his left hand with his right, wincing. For the first time Keith noticed that Shiro's right hand was different, but his curiosity at that was completely overridden by the small trickle of bright red blood that was seeping from the cut on Shiro's hand. “Do you have any paper towels?” Shiro said absently, glancing around the spartan kitchen and unaware exactly how much Keith had fixated on his hand.

It was an overwhelming thing, the scent of fresh blood. Keith was still a newer vampire, he didn't _have_ the decades of experience that allowed him to suppress those instincts when the situation called for it. It was such a struggle that Keith for the most part stayed indoors and away from society, because it was too easy to get carried away by all the People who smelled of blood and life and _prey._

Keith rose from his seat, eyes locked on the blood on Shiro's hand. Shiro had his left hand held out, opening the cabinet doors with his right, looking for towels or napkins or something when Keith grabbed his wrist with one hand and without even thinking about it stuck Shiro's injured finger in his mouth.

Shiro went absolutely still.

Keith lapped the blood up delicately. Human blood was so much sweeter than werewolf blood, it made his taste buds sing. Once he had cleaned the blood from Shiro's hand he sucked on the cut, feeling the small spill of blood over his tongue, before running his tongue over the wound to seal it. Only then did Keith realize what he was doing, and his eyes darted to Shiro's face as the blush spread over his cheeks.

Shiro was staring at him with a slightly glazed expression, like he didn't quite understand what was happening. Keith had seen the expression on faces before when he fed on humans, there was something in a vampire's saliva that put their victims into a trance so once bitten they wouldn't fight back. Shiro was _already_ in the trance, so … it couldn't hurt to have just a _little_ more….

Keith turned Shiro's hand over in his own, baring his wrist, and bit him there.

Oh, _bliss._ He hadn't eaten like this weeks. Maybe longer. Shiro's blood was setting his skin aflame, it filled his belly and his senses and if he wasn't careful he'd take too much. There was such a fine line, with humans; it was so easy to get distracted and accidentally drain too much. Keith was so blissed out at the sensation he could tell distantly that he was hard, and slid one hand down the outside of his pants as he drank from Shiro.

“What the _fuck_ ,” Lance screeched from the doorway. “Keith!”

Keith's head jerked up guiltily. He looked up at Shiro's face first, staring down at him but completely glazed over. Then he glanced to the door, where Lance stood in a tee shirt and jeans, a baseball cap on his head. “I thought I said, hands _off_ ,” Lance said, taking off his baseball cap and showing that his ears had migrated to the top of his head, poking fuzzy and brown through his short hair. The moon hadn't quite risen yet, but it was close. “Dude, are you _hard?”_

“He tastes so good,” Keith said, and licked Shiro's wrist, cleaning where some of the blood had spilled. “A thousand times better than you.”

“No shit he tastes good, I have dibs,” Lance said, as Shiro lifted his right hand to his face, the trance already starting to wear off.

“Keith?” Shiro said woozily, and then realized that Lance was there too. “Oh, Lance,” he said. “Your … ears are different, you look a lot fuzzier than I … remember...”

His piece said, Shiro's eyes rolled up into his head and promptly passed out into Lance's arms.

 

#

 

Sometimes, Shiro dreamed of things that were; classes, doctor's appointments, giving his roommate shit and hanging out before work. Other times, he dreamed of things that weren't; purple creatures with golden eyes, the uncaring vastness of space, giant robots like in the cartoons of his youth. Most of the time, if he was lucky, he didn't dream at all.

He wasn't quite sure if this was a case of the latter, or not. His head hurt like nothing else, and Shiro groaned, realizing that he was lying prone on something soft that smelled faintly of dog. That was funny, because he hadn't seen a dog yet, although there were enough mounds of blankets in Lance's apartment to certainly hide one.

Shiro faintly recalled hearing Lance and Keith arguing, but now that he was waking up Lance was nowhere to be seen. He sat up slowly, and his movement alert Keith, who was apparently cleaning up in the kitchen. “Shiro, you're awake?”

“What happened?” Shiro asked. He felt slightly dizzy still, and disproportionately weak. Keith appeared with a fresh glass of orange juice.

“Drink this,” Keith said.

Shiro stared at the glass, and then looked up at Keith. “I … I think I dreamed that Lance was back,” he said, rubbing his face as he took the glass. “He's not back, is he?”

Keith was bowled slightly forward as a very large, sleek greyish brown dog nudged behind him. It wormed up to Shiro, tail thumping excitedly, and placed its head on Shiro's knee. “You _do_ have a dog,” Shiro said, and stroked the dog's long, coarse fur with his left hand. “I thought I smelled one, where were you keeping him? In your room?”

Keith sighed. “Shiro, we don't own a dog. That's Lance. You've been out for a few hours, the moon's up.”

Shiro didn't stop petting the dog. “Very funny, Keith.”

“I would have Lance tell you himself, but he's a wolf right now,” Keith said. He nudged the back of the dog. “Lance, shift your butt, you keep whacking me with your tail.”

The dog – maybe it was a wolf, it didn't look as tame as Shiro originally thought – turned its head and snapped irritably at Keith's hand. Keith flipped the dog off and it growled, then put its head on Shiro's knee and wagged its tail again.

Shiro lifted his hand and turned it over, where there was a yellowish-green bruise on his wrist. He stared at that, and then slowly looked to Keith, who seemed determined to meet his gaze for the first time since he'd arrived at the apartment. “So … you biting me wasn't a dream either, then?” Shiro said.

Keith shook his head.

“You … you're a vampire.”

“Yeah.”

Shiro looked at the wolf, who had cocked its head and was staring at him with an alarming intensity. “And that's actually Lance.”

“Afraid so.”

“Oh. Okay.” Shiro put both his hands on the glass of orange juice and stared down into its pulpy depths. “Neat. That's … neat.”

“Are you all right?” Keith asked him, concerned. When Shiro didn't respond right away Keith carefully sat down on the couch next to him.

Without looking up, Shiro asked, “you're not going to bite me again, right?”

Keith shook his head. “Not unless you want me to.”

“Why would I _want_ you to?”

“Well, you slept through it but generally people tend to have … uh, _physical_ reactions to a vampire bite,” Keith said, slightly self-conscious. “You had a hard-on when Lance and I carried you to the couch.”

“I can get hard without getting my blood sucked by a vampire, thank you,” Shiro said, and then seemed to rethink his life choices and stopped speaking for the moment. He took a sip of the orange juice. “So, I guess that's why you disappeared three years ago,” he said, and Keith nodded,

“It wasn't safe for me to be around people,” he said hoarsely. “Still isn't, I guess. Lance and Hunk rescued me and took me in.”

“Uh huh,” Shiro said. He looked back to Lance, who seemed to enjoy nosing his snout closer to Shiro's crotch every chance he could get. When Lance realized he was caught he lifted his head and watched Shiro with bright, intelligent gold eyes. With a sigh, Shiro put his right hand on Lance's head and scratched behind his ears again. Lance's eyes went closed and his tail started thumping against the floor.

“You're awfully calm about all this,” Keith said, as Shiro kept petting Lance. “I mean, it is a lot.”

Shiro raised his right hand, and wiggled his fingers. The artificial hand glinted slightly under the room's lighting. “I know a technomancer,” he said. “You think modern prosthetics are this advanced? I mean, they're catching up fast, but very few people even notice my hand's fake.” Both of Keith's eyebrows lifted. “Also, Matt's a necromancer,” Shiro said quickly.

“ _What?”_

Shiro shrugged.

“Your _roommate_ is a fucking necromancer and you didn't believe Lance when he said he was a _werewolf?_ ” Keith flopped back against the back of the couch, pushing his hand through his hair. “ _Shiro._ ”

“Magic's different!” Shiro protested. “Kinda.”

Keith shook his head and groaned, and Shiro smiled a little. “Glad to see there's still some of the old Keith in there,” he said, and Keith looked over at him, surprised. “You've been all doom and gloom since I first saw you yesterday. You've even got some color back.”

Keith's hand touched his face without thinking about it. “Uh, that's 'cause I drank your blood,” he said.

“Oh.” Shiro shifted, and looked down at Lance. Then he glanced to the bruise on his wrist and frowned. “That … bruise that Lance had,” he said, and Keith suddenly found the wall far more interesting. “You drank from him, too.”

“He stopped me from making you into an early-morning snack, I was a little delirious,” Keith muttered. He moved to stand up. “You should probably rest more. Lance'll be back to his usual chatty self once the moon sets, though he'll be a little fuzzier than the norm until sometime tomorrow.” He gave Shiro a weak smile. “He'll be really horny, too.”

Shiro flushed at that, and Lance-the-wolf hopped up on the couch beside Shiro, turning in a circle a few times before settling in on Keith's abandoned cushion. “Are you _sure_ he's not just a big dog?” Shiro asked, even as Lance's enormous paws pushed against his thigh.

“Sure? I'm _certain_ of it,” Keith called, from the kitchen.

Lance heaved a great, doggy sigh of indignation, and Shiro smiled.

 

#

 

Daylight was a faint rosy blush sneaking in under the drawn curtains when Lance climbed naked atop Shiro on the couch, and hoo _boy_ Keith hadn't been kidding because Shiro thought Lance had been wanton before, but this? Fucking _incredible._ Shiro gripped the back of the couch with one hand but let Lance handle setting the pace, riding him slow and deep.

When they shifted positions and Shiro glanced to the hallway, he thought he saw a head duck quickly around the corner. He furrowed his brow, opened his mouth but then Lance captured his face with both hands, kissing him deeply. “Keith is spying on us,” Lance murmured, his voice husky and raw. “Did you see him?”

Shiro nodded as Lance kept kissing him. Then, Lance sat back on his lap, shifting his hips and making Shiro groan with the pressure of him tightening. “Hey, Keith,” Lance called. “Get in here.”

 _That_ woke Shiro right up. His hands flew to Lance's hips, as if holding him securely on top would disguise what they were doing somehow. “ _Lance_ ,” he hissed, as Keith slowly emerged from around the corner, eyes averted.

“You and he had a thing, right?” Lance said, and then whined when he realized Shiro's hands were keeping him from bouncing on Shiro's dick. “Don't give me that look, Shiro, best friends my left foot. You two were a _thing_.”

“It doesn't matter,” Keith said hoarsely. “It was a long time ago, Lance.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Lance said. He leaned in close, his chest pressed to Shiro's, and put one elbow on the back of the couch. “I spent all night listening to you two talk about the old days and smelling your fucking chub, Keith, you've still got it for him.”

“You can smell him?” Shiro said, and then realized how stupid that sounded. “You can smell _that?”_

“Yeah,” Lance nuzzled the side of Shiro's face and then fucking _licked_ him , oh my god that shouldn't have been so hot. “Yours smells _great_ , by the way,” he said, and ground down on him. “Fucking incredible,” Lance breathed. “I knew you were a good fit for my pack.”

“Uh,” Shiro was dizzy again. “Lance, I like you and all so don't take this the wrong way, but I don't want to be a werewolf.”

Lance leaned back and put his hand over his chest, scandalized. “Did you _hear_ that, Keith?”

“Yeah,” Keith said, and he nearly made Shiro jump because his voice was _much_ closer now. Keith leaned forward, both his hands braced on the back of the couch on the other side of Shiro's head. “He doesn't want to be a vampire either, imagine that.”

“Keith,” Shiro said, and Keith hesitantly touched Shiro's head, running his fingers through the short hair and then resting his hand on the back of Shiro's skull. Shiro leaned into the touch, his eyes closing.

“You _do_ smell incredible, though,” Keith murmured, and Shiro flushed hard, his eyes flying open.

“Hm. I guess it's not unprecedented for there to be not-werewolves in my pack,” Lance said, as if he'd come to a decision, and Keith rolled his eyes.

“Lance, you don't have _any_ werewolves in your pack. Your pack is me. Literally, just me.”

“Shiro didn't know that.”

“ _Lance_ ,” Shiro said firmly, and jogged his hips. Lance gasped, the movement drawing his attention. “Can we get back to what we were doing, maybe? Please?” His voice had gone a little strangled, and Lance leaned in and kissed him deeply, distilling the world back into its purest form. When they parted, Lance grinned this foxy little grin and said, “why don't you suck off Keith, Shiro?”

He looked over at Keith, who had flushed as dark as Shiro had seen him yet. For a moment Shiro remembered a different Keith, with slightly longer hair and a forceful smirk. He smiled, and wet his lips as Keith unbuttoned his pants.

 

#

 

Matt looked up when the door shut. “Where have _you_ been?” he said as Shiro staggered in through the hallway. “I didn't think you were staying the night twice in a row, you must really like this guy.”

Shiro made an affirmative noise and headed straight for the couch. Matt did a double-take as he passed, and then leaned through the door into the living room. “Dude, Shiro, are you all right? You look like death.”

Shiro fell onto the couch face-first. “I'm in trouble,” he said, his voice muffled by the pillow.

Matt hesitated because he wasn't sure how to interpret that immediately. “Good trouble?”

“The _best_.” Shiro sighed out a contented noise and turned his head, one eye emerging to look at Matt. “Gonna sleep now,” he said, as if he wasn't three quarters of the way to passed out on the living room couch already.

Matt sighed out a breath in amusement, and closed the blinds for Shiro. “Don't forget that Pidge is coming over tonight to take a look at your arm,” he said, but Shiro was already fast asleep.


End file.
